


In the Absence Of...

by Jael_Lyn



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1876725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael_Lyn/pseuds/Jael_Lyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you just have to lose it and just hit somebody. </p>
<p> Blair has his PhD & is working at Rainier in the story. Not exactly cannon, but I wanted it that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Absence Of...

_What am I supposed to do now?_

Simon Banks was exhausted, frustrated and near frantic. This was a total mess, and he was fresh out of ideas. He fumbled through the list of phone numbers and contacts that he had in his hand. The last two hours on the phone had yielded few results. What he really needed was Sandburg, in the flesh, right here, right now. Truth be told, he needed the kid 36 hours ago.

It hadn't started out so badly. Sandburg, with Jim's wholehearted approval, had joined a 6-week expedition to a remote site in the Amazon. The research group was hoping to correlate the findings from Eli Stoddard's expedition in Borneo with other isolated tribal groups. It was in Blair's area of expertise, and he had a strong ulterior motive. The main village of this tribe was not far from Chopec land, and had many of the same traditions. He was hoping to find additional sentinel information. Ellison had encouraged Blair to go, realizing the potential benefits to Sandburg's career in addition to the payoff for their Sentinel-Guide partnership. The two men had conferenced with their Captain, laying out plans for Jim's tenure without his guide.

The first two weeks had gone without a hitch. Simon should have known it was too good to last. 

As they say, the best-laid plans go astray. Jim had been on his way home from a quiet day processing reports. A group from narcotics, staging a raid on a meth lab, had run into serious problems. Two officers already down. The team was out-manned and out-gunned. Disregarding his 'I'll stay out of the action' promise, Jim had responded, arriving at the previously deserted warehouse in record time. As Jim and other reinforcements arrived on the scene, a prolonged shoot-out ensued. The officers cautiously pressed their advance into the building. One member of the drug gang decided a little distraction was needed, hoping to make an escape during the confusion. He turned his gun away from the members of the Cascade PD and began firing at the drums of chemicals stacked behind the advancing officers. Some of the drums had exploded. Others simply spilled their contents onto the cement floor, creating toxic combinations. Combined with the flames, toxic fumes and smoke filled the warehouse.

All in all, it was a bad escape plan. Two deaths had resulted; both men working at the lab, who had braved the toxic cloud rather than surrender. Other casualties included members of the drug gang, as well as the arresting officers. Almost everyone on site required medical treatment and a hospital stay. Most were making good progress, with the exception of Jim Ellison.

Like many of his colleagues, Jim had chemical burns on his skin and respiratory problems when brought to the hospital. At that point, his condition began to deteriorate. It wasn't as if Blair didn't have contingency plans. After several fruitless hours, Simon had torn himself away from his ailing detective to retrieve a thick, black notebook from the loft. Sandburg had left copious notes on all of Jim's known allergies and reactions to medications. At first, Simon thought he just couldn't read the thing correctly. As Jim's condition worsened, he finally demanded a conference with his doctors, attempting to supply some helpful information without blowing Jim's cover of secrecy. It had not been successful. Sandburg had Jim's power of attorney and was his official medical contact, but Banks was the designee if he was unavailable. Alleging some problem with the paperwork, the medical staff had chosen to defer to Jim's immediate family rather than Simon. Without Blair, he simply couldn't get them to pay attention. He was overruled at every turn, and was on the verge of being banned from Jim's room. 

Another twelve hours went by as the hospital stalled, waiting for Jim's family to be located. It might have been preferable if William or Stephen Ellison could have been found. Although Simon realized that Jim had a tenuous relationship with his family, they both knew about Jim's sentinel abilities. In the heat of crisis, Simon could have probably prevailed upon them to consider Sandburg's suggestions. At the moment, he was simply reduced to trying to reach the missing anthropologist.

"Captain Banks, you should probably leave now." The tall, solidly built physician who now managed Jim's treatment had halted just inside the door. "We need to prepare our patient for transport."

Simon cast a panicky look towards Jim. His skin had been burned to a bright red by the chemicals, his limbs were strapped to his hospital bed. Jim had been conscious when he had been brought to the hospital, long enough to whisper to Simon that his pain was terrible and his senses out of control. As his behavior had become more erratic, the doctors had continued to flood the man with ever more painkillers and sedatives. Jim had frantically called out for Blair as his sensory control disintegrated. Despite Simon's protests, his best detective had been placed in restraints. 

"I'm not leaving. And what are you talking about? Where is he being moved? I thought this was where all the burn victims were?"

"Captain, I'm not obligated to have this discussion with you. Mr. Ellison is being moved to a psychiatric clinic where we can more adequately treat his hallucinations. He'll continue to get appropriate medical care."

Simon was around the bed like a shot. "A psych ward? Are you the one who's crazy? If you'd just listen to the information his partner left..."

"No matter how well intentioned, Dr. Sandburg is not a physician." The man's nameplate identified him as Dr. Hinton. "We really can't give these observations of his much credence during the current medical crisis. I've assumed responsibility for this patient. Obviously, he had mental issues before this incident. As his commanding officer, you bear some responsibility for his condition."

"This is unacceptable," argued Simon. "This is not what Jim would want. This will make him sicker. You can't..."

"Captain, we've been through this. In the absence of an appropriate individual to give consent, I am assuming complete control of Mr. Ellison's continuing medical treatment." Dr. Hinton's voice began to crescendo. "You deserve some deference as my patient's immediate supervisor, but let's not have any illusions about who's in charge here. If you want to retain even minimal visiting rights, you will need to abide by the parameters I set. Right now I say you need to leave and I mean it. I'll have you removed by security if necessary."

Simon looked back at Jim's form. His body was wracked by shivers. His eyes would open periodically, but he didn't seem to really see anything. As he thrashed in the restraints, he continued to call for Blair. Simon realized he might have to cooperate to maintain any input into the situation at all. He stared levelly at Hinton. "You're not going to help Jim by isolating him from all the faces he knows. Even I can figure that out."

"I will contact you tomorrow with some guidelines, Captain Banks. I will not tolerate any further interference with my patient."

Something in the phrase 'my patient' made Simon very uneasy. Hinton didn't know Jim, hadn't ever laid eyes on him before Jim had been admitted. Why was he so possessive? "I'll be in touch, Dr. Hinton." With that, still clutching the sheaf of papers containing his phone contacts and Blair's black notebook, Simonleft the room, more determined than ever to get Blair back where he was needed before things got any worse.

 

Blair Sandburg woke up with a start. He remembered some great-aunt of Naomi's saying that when you woke up like that, someone walked over your grave. Dumb. Blair looked over at his tent mates, still sleeping soundly. He should be asleep. The final hike from the river to reach the village had been hot and exhausting. It took awhile to get used to the rain forest again. Some noise must have awakened him. He wished Jim had come, as impossible as that was. He felt naked here without the sentinel by his side.

Jim. A shiver crawled up his spine. Why would that thought come to him out of a dead sleep? Talk about jumping at shadows. Jim was all right. Jim was always all right. Blair lay back down, listening to the steady drip of rain off of the surrounding vegetation. Somehow, as unlikely as it was, he felt cold all over.

 

"I'm trying to reach the assistant to the ambassador; his name is Thomas Vining. Yes, I will hold, but I've been on hold for ten minutes already. Can you... damn, not again." Simon angrily slapped his pad of paper against the table. After hours of wading through the morass at Rainier University, one of Sandburg's professorial colleagues had referred him to the Brazilian Embassy in San Francisco, who had referred him to the American Embassy in Lima. After hour on the phone and what was sure to be an astronomical phone bill, Simon was no nearer to getting a message to Blair.

"Hello? Thomas Vining? This is Captain Simon Banks of the Cascade Police Department. Yes, sir, you could consider this a police emergency. No, I don't need to be referred to drug interdiction. I'm trying to locate Dr. Blair Sandburg. He's with a study group from Rainier University. No, they entered through Brazil, but apparently the site is actually in Peru. Right. I faxed a map of the area to your office several hours ago. Yes, I'll hold." Again, Simon muttered to himself. "You have it? Great! Is there any way to communicate with that area? A government courier? Next month? Mr. Vining, I can't wait until next month. Yes, I understand. Dr. Sandburg is a consultant to the department. One of detectives has been injured, and the medical personnel have overridden his wishes. Yes, Dr. Sandburg is legally his emergency medical contact. Ellison is a -uh - a very special case. At this point his life is in danger. No, I'm not exaggerating one bit. I wish I was. No, his immediate family isn't available. It's Sandburg he needs. Yes... not exactly. Look, does it make any difference to you that Detective Ellison is a decorated army officer and served in Peru? Yes, that Ellison." Simon listened closely, trying to rein in his temper. No matter how frustrating this got, Vining was his best hope, short of paddling a canoe up the Amazon himself. Minutes slid past. He should have paid more attention when the kid tried to teach him how to meditate.

"Yes, I'm still here. Mr. Vining? Oh. Yes. Pleased to speak with you, Colonel. It's very serious. You knew Jim when he served? Then you know why I can't let this ride. You have an operation going into that area? Next week? Don't think me ungrateful but is sooner a possibility? Yes. I'll hold."

 

Blair felt like he was floating through an endless jungle. He fought at the branches; vines clawed at his body. All the while, he could hear a jaguar, first growling, then screaming in pain. He tried to get closer to the sound, but made no progress.

"Dr. Sandburg? Excuse me, Dr. Sandburg. We're supposed to leave for the new site in less than an hour. Dr. Sandburg, you need to wake up!"

"Wha.... Where is it?" Blair shook off his student's gentle hand and bolted upright, the jaguar's scream still echoing. He promptly smacked his head on one of the braces of the sloping roof above his bed. He dropped back to his cot, clutching his head and groaning.

"Take it easy, Dr. Sandburg. Are you OK? Let me look at your head. I think you're bleeding."

Blair struggled to focus on the face swimming in front of him. He was still groggy from sleep and now probably had a concussion on top of it. "Who are you? Where's Jim?" he muttered fuzzily.

"It's Kevin, Dr. Sandburg. We don't have a Jim on the dig team. Is he a guy from Cascade?" Blair started to laugh. His 19-year-old student was patting his arm like he was a geriatric case. He pushed back the panicky feeling left over from his nightmare.

Blair managed to prop himself up on one elbow. His world was still spinning. He rubbed his eyes again, trying to clear his vision. "I'm sorry, Kevin. I was really stuck in this awful dream. What time is it?"

"Seven. You asked me to wake you at six, but you were sleeping so soundly, we just got everything ready and let you sleep."

"Seven?" It can't be that late, thought Blair. He was exhausted. I couldn't have slept the whole night and feel this bad. Judging by Kevin's next comments, he must look as bad as he felt.

"Really, Dr. Sandburg, we have everything under control. Why don't you just lie here and wake up a little slower? I'll bring you something to eat and some coffee."

"You shouldn't be waiting on me like that. Just let me find my shoes...."

"It's no crime to be sleepy, Dr. Sandburg. Honestly, you'd better stay here. Your shoes are on your feet, by the way."

"Wha...? ... give me a break. My brains must have fallen out of my ears."

Kevin looked a lot less worried and started to smile. "You know, if there was justice in the world, we should have had a reeeeally great party for you to be this out of it. Too bad we were just cataloging rubbings from the stone work. I'll be right back with that coffee." He stopped at the doorway of the lean-to, grinning from ear to ear. You know, Professor, some of the less sensitive members of the team might find this funny. I'll trade you my silence if you'll do my kitchen duty tomorrow?" He ducked as a pillow struck harmlessly on the wall near his head."

"Out, you shameless opportunistic blackmailer, you!" With a laugh the young man disappeared from view.

As much as he willed himself to pop out of bed, all Blair could actually manage was to wearily let his eyes drift shut. On the edge of returning to sleep, a tendril of concern snaked through his conscious mind - what the hell is going on? What could be wrong with Jim?

 

"Captain Banks, Dr. Hinton is still unavailable. Would you like to leave a message?"

"Not particularly. It would be the same message I left the last four times. I would like to get an update on my detective, Jim Ellison, and I would like to visit him immediately. Dr. Hinton assured me that he would be in touch with me today."

"I'm sorry, Captain. He hasn't left any information with me for you."

"Can you tell me where Detective Ellison has been transferred? I can contact the facility if Dr. Hinton is too busy to speak with me."

"I'm sorry, I've already explained that I can't discuss the status of a patient without the approval the Doctor Hinton."

Simon was fuming, but reminded himself not to shoot the messenger. He'd just have to wait. With a restrained voice that did not match his mood, he said his good-byes. The image of Jim, shaking and tormented in the hospital, haunted him more than he wanted to admit. He needed to find out what was going on, and he needed to get Blair back in the country. Every move he'd made had been to no avail thus far.

 

"Captain Banks, there's a fax for you. Would you like me to bring it in?"

"Thanks, Rhonda. Please do." Simon sighed. He allowed himself to slump into his oversized desk chair. He'd made another round of calls - Rainier, the U.S. embassies in Peru and Brazil. The conversations seemed sympathetic, but it was difficult to tell if anyone was willing or capable of getting a message to Sandburg, much less retrieving the man from the jungle. Simon looked up as Rhonda moved gracefully through his office door.

"Rhonda, I can't thank you enough for running interference for me while I made these calls. This is such a mess."

"The fax is from a Dr. Hinton, Cascade General. Isn't that who you've been trying to reach?" She handed the papers across the desk. Simon nearly snatched them from her hands. She hesitated as he skimmed the two sheets, then flipped back to the first.

"That bastard," he shouted. "Sorry, Rhonda. Listen to this. Ellison is in the Evergreen Mental Wellness Center in strict isolation. Says maybe he can arrange for me to visit him in a few days. Rhonda, call William Ellison's company again. If we can't get Blair back, we've got to try to get his family here. Forget the phone. I'm going to track down Hinton right now. I'll keep my cell on if you need me."

He nearly collided with Rafe, who was coming full speed ahead in the other direction. Henri Brown was right behind him. Both me looked furious.

"Captain, you won't believe this!" sputtered Rafe.

"That doctor - son of a bitch!" interrupted Brown. The entire bullpen came to a halt - Henri never lost his temper like this. "We were in court for the Harris trial and this lawyer friend of Rafe's pops us and asks us what the deal is - why is Ellison being declared mentally incompetent, and who is this doctor to take charge instead of his family or his friends?"

"Look at this paperwork, Captain." Rafe thrust a thick sheaf of documents at him. "My friend Denise gave us a copy on the sly. That Hinton guy now has complete control over Jim Ellison. What are we gonna do? Can he really just steal one of our own away from us?"

"Not if we can help it," growled Simon. "This guy is really starting to tick me off. Rhonda, I'm going to Evergreen, and then Cascade General to file a formal protest with the managing director of the hospital. Call the Chief. Tell him what's happening. Maybe he has some political cronies that will help us put pressure on this idiot. Taggart! Get your coat. I want you with me. You're the only one big enough around here to keep me from killing somebody. Rafe, Brown, you two run a background check on this Hinton character. Yesterday, gentlemen. Yesterday." With that he swept from the room.

 

After a slow start, they had hiked all through the morning, making good progress with. It was now early afternoon, and the group had stopped at the edge of a clearing. This area had been used for traditional slash and burn agriculture. They had a rare view of the surrounding forest from the ridge. The two Indian men directing them to the dig site were members of this village. They explained that the area had been abandoned within the last year, as was their custom.

As always, the heat and humidity made the hiking difficult. All fifteen members of the dig team were grateful for the rest. They had stretched out to relax, eat their lunch and marvel at the miles of rain forest spread out before them. They were about to pack up when an alien sound penetrated the normal jungle cacophony. A spirited conversation broke out between the native men. Blair realized with a start that the sound was a helicopter. They craned their necks, searching the sky for the source of the sound. The huge helicopter shot over the top of them at high speed. Blair had paid attention to Jim's stories enough to realize it was a U.S. Army troop carrier. Once again thoughts of Jim crowded into his mind. As Blair watched the helicopter disappear into the mist, he couldn't shake a sense of foreboding.

 

His first awareness was of bands of fire around his wrists and ankles. He tried to pull away, and the heat followed him, tearing at his skin. He pulled harder, again and again. Voices were shouting all around him. He tried to tell them to help him get away. If they heard, they didn't help. He felt a searing pain under the skin in his left arm, which spread like oil oozing across the ground. The voices began to fade. Jim Ellison was slowly surrounded, then lost, in swirling gray.

 

It was nearly nightfall before they reached the dig site. Layers of jungle had been slowly peeled away by previous teams, revealing the intricately carved walls of a city. Blair was particularly interested in a foundation in the northern section of the site that had all the earmarks of a ceremonial site or temple. The initial findings had revealed some references similar to sentinel writings Blair was familiar with. The caretakers of the site were relatives of the Chopec people who had sheltered Jim in Peru. The researchers were careful respect the tribal group's privacy, and had located their tents about 3/4 of a mile away. Any direct entrance into the village for study had to be approved by the village elders. So far, both groups had enjoyed amiable relations.

Their team of fifteen was enthusiastically greeted by the twelve long-term researchers who had spent the better part of a year on-site. Blair knew one of them well. Rachel Parsons had been finishing her Ph.D. in archeology when Blair had been an undergrad. He had kept in touch with the smiling, dark-haired woman that had helped him so much in his younger days. He spotted her immediately. They exchanged a warm embrace.

"Let me look at you, Blair. What ever happened to the scrawny 16-year old brainiac I used to know?"

Blair laughed. "He's still here. I'm just trying to look responsible. How are you, Rachel?"

"Fantastic. I've got so much to show you, and I really need your expertise organizing the information we've collected so far. I'm hoping that your time with Dr. Stoddard will give you some insights."

"Well, fifteen days will just fly by, I'm sure. I brought a care package for you - all your favorite treats."

"You're a dear. I've got all your kids matched up with one of ours, so they can get settled in on their own. We've had a great stroke of good fortune, and I'm so glad you'll be here to be part of it." Blair followed Rachel's lead across the camp area.

"Don't keep me in suspense. What's so exciting."

"The village is conducting some sort of ceremony tonight. We've enjoyed excellent relations with them, and they've invited us to bring two elders to witness and participate. I'm one, you're the other."

"Hey, lady, you may have gray hair, but I'm no elder," Blair teased with mock seriousness.

"Turkey. This should be a great chance to get some really unique cultural observations. It's so rare to be willingly included like this."

"Okay, okay. So what sort of ceremony is this - fertility rite?"

"You wish! No - as near as I can tell it's like a session to predict the future. The local dialect is a bit of an issue. Some of their vocabulary is very unique. Come on. You can dump your stuff and I'll show you what I planned to take as gift tokens.

As night fell over the rain forest, Rachel and Blair made their trek toward the village. Introductions were made. This was clearly a major and important gathering. One of the village men had sufficient command of English to translate. The two researchers and their interpreter seated themselves along the back wall of a traditional structure, and settled in. These ceremonies typically lasted far into the night, and could sometimes go on for days.

Hours later, Blair watched in fascination as one particular elderly man took his place at the ritual fire. He had been pointed out to them as a powerful shaman from a nearby village, and the other participants clearly deferred to him. The man reminded him vaguely of Encacha; he seemed to have the ability to see right through you. The shaman's gnarled hands gestured above the flames as he communed with the spirit world. Blair was so taken in by his dance that at first he didn't notice the shaman had left the fireside and was advancing toward the two invited guests. Rachel hissed, hoping they hadn't done anything to disrupt the proceedings. The shaman stood before them, chanting and gesturing. He motioned at Blair, his voice rising and falling. Their interpreter leaned towards Blair, whispering. "He wants to know why you, who are a Shaman, did not join them at the fire." He listened again, then translating; "He asks why the Shaman is without his watcher."

Blair couldn't answer. He was aware of Rachel's shocked stare, but his own attention was locked on the shifting, writhing figure of the old man before him. The shaman became agitated, stomping his feet and shaking his finger at Blair. "He keeps asking, where is your watcher?" murmured the translator. "Do you know what he means?" Abruptly, the shaman shook took two ceremonial rattles over Blair's head and cried out into the night. He collapsed, caught by his fellows and carried back to the fire. Rachel clutched at Blair's arm, alarmed at her fellow researcher's unmoving response.

"What was that last bit?" she asked their interpreter.

As their companion guided the two researchers from the area, he continued his translation. "The great shaman said that the jaguar is screaming. It is a very bad omen of danger and death."

Dr. Daniel Hinton could hardly believe his good fortune. This wasn't just a stroke of luck. This was damn near miraculous! A new lease on his tattered professional life. And to think it had all just fallen into his lap, an unexpected little gift from the cosmos. He'd only needed to take advantage of the opportunity. He continued to ignore the repeated pages from the receptionist in his private practice and a host of other meaningless distractions. He greedily pored over his notes on the case of his new obsession, Detective James Ellison. With a little embellishment, he could turn this into a real masterpiece. 

He glanced again at his most recently rejected grant proposal. Those fools on the review committee wouldn't be able to reject this. He could use this case to justify all kinds of things. The plight of a stricken public servant, a war hero and a decorated police officer to boot, would be an irresistible angle. He wouldn't stop at getting a piddly little grant funded. He could get the money for a Toxic Materials Treatment Center at Cascade General, and use that as a stepping stone to even bigger things. He nearly chortled over the stroke of genius that had given him complete control over this man for an unlimited amount of time. Talk about miraculous - how many times could you get the perfect subject in the perfect circumstances, with no one to speak for him, courtesy of that silly Judge Cooper. Now he just needed to string this out long enough to collect the data he needed. It was just so - PERFECT!

 

Joel Taggart was driving now, having demoted his fellow Captain to passenger status two stops ago. It was either that or watch Banks slaughter some innocent in his growing rage. Dr. Hinton was making himself very unavailable. They had been to his private practice, to the hospital, to his home, then back to the hospital for a very terse conversation with the administrative staff. Joel shared Simon's concern. It was part of the ritual of the police brotherhood to be at the bedside of a fallen colleague. This attempt to isolate Ellison from those who cared about him could only be bad news. 

Joel tried to concentrate on his driving as he half-listened to Simon haranguing someone in the DA's office. He was questioning some poor soul about the legality of Jim's life being hijacked by this Hinton Character. The conversation was wrapping up just a Joel took the turnoff which led to the Evergreen Mental Wellness Center. Simon closed the cell phone with a snap, clearly unhappy with the answers he was getting.

"Well, what did they say?" asked Joel.

"It's a mess. We can file some action - whatever it's called - damn all lawyers and that secret code they babble in - but it won't have great legal standing because we're not family."

"Sandburg's not family."

"No, but he has special standing because legally Jim designated him to act in his stead. We'd be in better shape if Blair was here."

"How are we doing on that score? I know you were calling."

"I talked to a military commander in Peru that seemed like our best shot. They were going to try to divert a drug interdiction mission. The whole thing was pretty iffy in terms of timing and whether they could even find the research sites. It would be a one shot deal. If they missed, the guy couldn't promise any other help."

"Forgive me if I admit this doesn't sound promising."

"You're forgiven. I think the odds are lousy. I'm never letting Sandburg out of the country again without a GPS and a damn flock of homing pigeons. Look. That's Hinton's car in the parking lot. The weasel's here. No nonsense, Joel. That guy is not getting out of here without talking to us. I want answers and I want them now!"

 

"Blair.... Blair Sandburg! Will you please quit making me chase you?" Blair finally pulled to a stop. They were halfway between the village and their tent campsite. Their interpreter had remained in the village, thoroughly spooked by the scene between the Shaman and Sandburg. Blair had taken off into the night, Rachel at his heels, barely managing to keep up.

"You mind telling me what went on back there? I've spent half my life researching cultures like this and I never - repeat never - have seen a Shaman interact with an outsider like that."

"You're the expert. Why do you expect me to know anything?"

"Because I saw the look on your face when he started spouting that stuff about a Watcher. Because believe it or not, I am not senile and I remember what you've done your research on over the years. Because you tore out of that village like you had seen the gates of hell from a front row seat." Rachel's voice calmed. "Blair, we are old friends. I want to help, but you've got to trust me a little."

"I... I just can't talk about this, Rachel. I don't really know anything. Let me have some time to sort things out - we'll talk at first light. Please, Rachel. That's the most I can say right now."

"All right. But at first light, I will be at your tent flap with two cups of coffee and a lot of questions. Don't even think about trying the obfuscation routine on me, Sandburg. I had that one pegged when you were seventeen years old."

 

"Simon, I am going to have to sit on you if you don't calm down. You're getting crazy here."

"Taggart, I am finding that man one way or another." They had just blown their way past a protesting receptionist at Evergreen. "He's here." As they turned the corner, none other than Dr. Hinton appeared on the horizon. Joel watched in fascination of the man's face played through panic and guilt before the professional mask snapped back into place. Simon was right. This guy was not playing by the rules. He was hiding something.

"Captain Banks, this is a restricted area. I must insist that you leave immediately."

"Insist all you want. This is an official interview." Simon pulled the conference room door open. "After you. We need to chat, and I don't have to hide behind a white coat and a name badge to get what I want." Dr. Hinton walked smartly across the room, positioning the table between himself and his two adversaries.

"Allow me to introduce Captain Taggart of the Cascade PD. First of all, I want to see Jim Ellison. You will not isolate my detective from the people who have his best interest at heart."

"I'm his physician. Of course I will see to his care."

"You're his physician by accident and default. You never laid eyes on him until a few days ago. Dr. Sandburg would never have agreed to Jim being treated in this manner, as I'm sure you're well aware. When will you arrange for me to see Jim?"

"Tomorrow or the next day, perhaps, depending on his condition."

Simon leaned across the table. "Try again, Hinton. Think now - as in neither of us are leaving this facility before Captain Taggart and I are at Jim's bedside." Hinton glared, but finally responded with the barest of nods.

"Next, I want to know the meaning of this legal action." Taggart handed the papers across to Simon, who in turn flipped them onto the table in front of Hinton. "Did you really think we would be so disinterested that you could pull this off with no protest from anyone?" One look at Hinton's face made it utterly clear; that was precisely what he had hoped for. "The information you provided to the court ranges from misleading to downright untrue. I've requested that the administration at Cascade General thoroughly examine this matter. Cascade's District Attorney is also looking into the matter. In the meantime, I expect you to return my calls in a timely manner and provide us with appropriate information and visiting hours." Dr. Hinton glared at them in silence for nearly a minute before deciding the odds were not in his favor. With great reluctance, he led them through a maze of hallways to Jim's room.

It didn't take the two men long to be reminded that this was a mental institution. A dizzying series of sign-ins, locked doors and security code keypads had to be negotiated. At the threshold of Jim's room Hinton held the door open and remained there while the other two men entered the room.

Simon could see his own shock reflected on Taggart's face as they moved to opposite sides of the bed. Jim had looked bad in the hospital, shivering and struggling in his restraints. It had been almost two days since they had stood at Jim's bedside in Cascade General. This fruits of his transfer to Evergreen and Hinton's stonewalling were clearly apparent. No more plaintive whispers for Sandburg to appear. Still in restraints, their friend lay still as a corpse, barely breathing. The skin burns for the chemicals at the warehouse still seemed fiery red, but the underlying pallor was ashen. IV's snaked into his arms on Simon's side. Joel gently rubbed the skin on the underside of the elbow, which was not covered by the restraints or cluttered with needles or monitor leads. As his fingers played up and down the pale skin, he searched Jim's face for some kind of response.

"Talk to him, Simon. Maybe he'll hear you."

Simon leaned close to Jim's ear, his head nearly brushing the pillow. Lowering his baritone to a whisper, he called Jim's name.

"Ellison - Jim - it's Simon. Taggart's here too. Try to wake up, Jim. I know it's bad, but we're going to be here now. Come on, buddy. Do you know we're here?" The quiet litany continued. Jim seemed unresponsive. As Simon continued his one sided dialog with his detective, Joel whirled around and stalked Hinton, backing the man out the door, across the hall and up against the opposite wall. It was an inside joke at Major Crimes that Joel Taggart, for all his size, was about as threatening as a teddy bear. The man who now towered nose to nose over Daniel Hinton was closer to a raging grizzly.

"What have you done to him? He's worse - much worse! That looks more like a corpse than a living, breathing human being."

Hinton tried to gather his condescending doctor persona and went on a tirade. "He's under sedation. He was hallucinating - talking about fire on his skin and sounds that weren't there. He heard voices and drums. We were fortunate to intervene in time."

"In time for what? In time for you to lock him up and drug him to the point he looks like he's in a coma?"

"You people would be well served to provide me with truthful information. Detective Ellison was clearly mentally unstable before the accident. The chemical exposure has simply triggered a more severe response. Captain Banks will have to answer for keeping such a clearly dysfunctional individual on duty, armed and dangerous. He could have snapped at any time."

"You're way out of line. Jim Ellison is the finest detective on the force. A few days in your care and now he's a head case of long standing? I don't think so. What are you doing for him besides tying him down and isolating him? Where's the therapy? I don't see a nurse or an attendant. Where's his record of care? This is the equivalent of throwing an injured man into the dungeon in chains. You're the one who will be answering uncomfortable questions, Hinton. And I plan to be there when it happens." He gave the cowering man one last look of disgust and backed across the hall. He was careful not to slam the door as he re-entered the room.

Simon was still speaking to Jim. Following Joel's lead, he had added soft touches and strokes to his verbal pleas. Joel watched in silence. 

"He squeezed my hand when I mentioned Sandburg. He knows were here. I think they've got him so far under this is the best he can do." Joel pulled Simon across the room.

"That Hinton is a weasel. We have got to get Jim out of here, and I don't think we should leave him alone. I think you should stay here, and I'll get everyone organized to keep a vigil round the clock until we can get something better in place. We'll say he needs protection as a witness if necessary." 

They were distracted by a series of rings from Simon's cell phone. 

"Banks here. Put it through, Rhonda. Yes. Absolutely, this is a call I need to take." He stage whispered at Joel, "It's the military from Peru. Maybe they found Sandburg." He returned his attention to the phone. "This is Simon Banks. Nice to hear from you, Colonel. I hope you have good news. That's great! I see...No, Detective Ellison's condition is considerably worse. When was that, yesterday? And no one else is going in? Colonel, I can't tell you how much I appreciate you effort, but if there's any way to way you can get to Dr. Sandburg ...Yes, the situation here is extremely serious. Thank you, Colonel."

Simon snapped the phone shut. He looked sick at heart. "God help us, Joel. They missed him. They found the main camp, but Sandburg had already gone to the research site. The chopper had no choice but to continue on and complete their mission. Ellison's company finally tracked down his father and brother. They are in China, conducting negotiations for telecommunications equipment. Apparently they've gone on some sort of side trip into a nature reserve and are just as lost as Sandburg. Go marshal the troops. Get Connor to come down first and relieve me - Jim has pretty good rapport with her. Organize two or three-hour shifts round the clock, just like you said. We are on our own."

 

Blair sat motionless in front of his sleeping quarters. He'd spent the last hour watching dawn break, trying to meditate and sort through what he'd seen and heard. Something had to be wrong with Jim - the nightmares, his sense of foreboding, the shaman. Even seeing that military helicopter overhead seemed like a bad omen. What was he supposed to do now. There was no way to communicate and find out what was going wrong. He couldn't just ditch his research team of 15 students - he had a responsibility to fulfill. Jim would hang him by the ears if he put his career in jeopardy again over nothing more than a bad dream and some hokey coincidences. Still, the shaman. Could that really be nothing more than a coincidence? He couldn't just blurt out all the details of Jim's Sentinel situation as an excuse. Yet every fiber of his being told him that his sentinel needed him.

Across the misty compound he could see Rachel heading his way, the promised mugs of coffee in hand. He knew Rachel. When the woman wanted answers, she got answers. He had about 30 seconds to come to a decision and stick with it. Question was - could sentinel and guide live with the decision, whatever it was.

 

Simon stood in front of his car in the parking lot of Evergreen Mental Wellness Center, trying to master his exploding temper. If he got in the car in this state, he'd probably slaughter some innocent civilian. Talk about road rage!

He'd just finished another angry confrontation with Dr. Hinton over the continuous stream of drugs being given to his detective. The Major Crimes volunteers would just get the barest glimmer of response from Jim and in would come another nurse or technician with another gift from Dr. Hinton. The volunteers had surrounded their fallen comrade for almost three days now, trying to maintain contact between Jim and the world around him. Everyone said the same thing. Other than to pump him full of drugs and make copies of his chart, no one at the Center was making any attempt to treat Jim or find out what was wrong. Hinton, when he was there, retreated to a conference room and seemed absorbed in paperwork. He rarely came to Jim's bedside. There were no medical tests, no examinations. Rafe and Brown had taken their last shift together and went to work on the younger, female members of the nursing staff. Dr. Hinton was not well liked, and some judicious flirting and wheedling had revealed that Hinton's paperwork was none other than a grant application. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. Their long running fear that Jim Ellison, Sentinel, would be turned into an unwilling lab rat had come to pass.

Simon slammed the top of the sedan with his fist. They were getting fewer and fewer positive moments with Jim. The review board at Cascade General had indicated that they were unhappy with Dr. Hinton, but they weren't going to move fast enough to do any good. He needed to get Ellison out of this facility and away from Hinton. He looked at his watch. Three o'clock on a Friday afternoon was not a great time to try to accomplish anything, but he was out of options.

Taking another deep breath, he got behind the wheel. Better make a quick call to the station, since he'd been out of contact for several hours. As he started the car, he listened carefully to the rundown of the afternoon's events.

"Oh, I almost forgot - We had some preliminary action on the drug lab bust. They wanted you there, but we told them to get by without you. They dragged in some other guy in who'd been at the warehouse. Guess a lot of the injured just aren't up to testifying. Narcotics thinks they've connected the whole operation to the Larson brothers - wouldn't they be big fish to turn up in the net? Doesn't make up for Jim, but still..."

"What did you say, Rafe!? That last bit? Repeat it!"

"About Larson? That they tied the brothers to the warehouse. Is something wrong, Captain?"

"Think - didn't we suspect that they murdered a witness in a case against them about a year ago?"

"Yeah ...Brown and I handled the follow up."

"Rafe, listen to me very carefully. Track down Beverly Sanchez and have her meet me at the courthouse ASAP. Is Brown there?"

"Yeah. We were just leaving."

"Put him on. Brown - remember that kidnapping case? The one when Jim found Judge Holman's little granddaughter? Judge Holman's had a soft spot for Ellison ever since. Find Holman before he heads for home and tell him that I'm bringing Beverly Sanchez for a conference concerning Jim Ellison and that it may be life or death. He'll stay. Well, why are you still on the phone? Get going!"

 

Judge Holman dropped the papers to his desk and peered over his glasses at the two people occupying his office. "Run this by me one more time, Captain."

"The case where Ellison was injured has been linked to the Larson brothers. They have a history of eliminating problem witnesses. Ellison was one of the first officers into the warehouse and may have critical testimony. We want to take him into protective custody."

"More protective than the facility he is in?"

"Yes, sir. We have some concerns about the setting and individuals currently involved in his care. We'll have a physician standing by." Please, please, please, Joel, have a physician for me by now, he thought.

"And those concerns are?"

Assistant District Attorney Beverly Sanchez broke in. "You know how informants are. A tip here and there. Let's just say that we don't want to take any chances with Detective Ellison's safety. You and I are both members of the club that realize Detective Ellison is a rather special case." He direct gaze conveyed the unspoken part of her response -both she and Judge Holman owed Jim Ellison. 

"All right. It's unusual but I'll sign it. Beverly, do you have the appropriate paperwork prepared?"

"I'm having a messenger bring it over from my office. It will be here in less than an hour."

Judge Holman eyed the clock on the wall. "It's my niece's wedding tomorrow. If I'm late for the rehearsal dinner you'll have to put me in protective custody so my wife won't skin me alive. I'll have that young man, Detective Brown, bring the papers over to Major Crimes." As Simon and Beverly said their thank-yous and prepared to leave, Holman stopped them at the door with a final comment. "Banks, I'm sticking my neck out on this one. It had better be worth it."

By the time Simon returned to the station, he had mentally decided how to man the operation. Now all that remained was the physician. If Sandburg thought Jim's reactions were due to allergies, for the moment allergies they would be. He had dispatched Taggart with Blair's black notebook of Ellison medical quirks. Joel had taken the assignment without questioning it, which Simon appreciated. It wasn't everyone in your command that you could essentially command 'go fetch me an allergy specialist' and expect to have it done.

When he hit the bullpen, the place was in an uproar. Brian Rafe seemed to be the center of attention. Completely absorbed in his other thoughts, and resenting the distraction, Banks bellowed at his detective. "Rafe, what is going on here?"

"Captain! It's Sandburg! He's back!"

 

Simon looked at the man, completely dumbfounded. "He's in Peru, Rafe. They didn't find him."

"I swear, Captain. It was Blair. When I got back from delivering Sanchez to Judge Holman's office, I came back here and Blair was calling from Fort Lewis. Some idiot was trying to get him to leave a message, if you can believe it! He said the Army did miss him on the first try, but the mission aborted unexpectedly and they came back for a second run. He's spent days on military transport and he's sitting in some general's office in Tacoma."

"Someone get Sanchez on the phone. I've got to see if this changes our plans to take Ellison into protective custody. Either way, we've got to get Blair here immediately."

"I've taken care of that, Captain," answered Rafe with a hopeful smile. "I called the commanding officer of the Washington State Patrol."

"You did what? Without authorization?"

Rafe looked like a kid caught in the middle of gorging on a new batch of cookies. "Well, I sort of made it up. They're bringing him by patrol car. The last time they checked in, they were halfway through downtown Seattle with full sirens and the Seattle PD running a two-car escort." Encouraged, rightly or wrongly by Simon's stunned silence, he continued brightly, "Isn't America grand?"

 

Simon checked his watch. It was nearly 7pm. His team was parked about two blocks down from the Evergreen Mental Wellness Center, including an ambulance. Blair was somewhere en-route. A message was being relayed to the Washington State Police cruiser that was bringing him back to Cascade, telling the car where to meet them. Taggart was bringing their allergy specialist from across town.

Simon was mildly surprised when Beverly had told him to continue as planned, despite Blair's imminent arrival. Apparently, they could essentially arrest Ellison without revoking Hinton's court order. Putting Blair back in charge might take more time, or at least until they could get into court again. Since Simon felt they needed to get Jim out tonight, the original plan stayed in place.

Simon continued to pace until Joel's black sedan pulled up behind the rest of the entourage. A slight, sandy-haired man in his early 30's popped out of the passenger side. He was carrying the black notebook, so this must be their physician.

"Captain Banks, I'm Dr. Johansen. I take it you've been waiting on me. My apologies. I was seeing to an asthma patient at the ER." He held the black notebook up. "Fascinating case. I've checked the recent records at Cascade General. Your Sandburg may well be right. All the symptoms recorded before Detective Ellison was removed from the hospital could be explained by severe allergic reactions. If they've continued to administer drugs at the level immediately prior to transport, well... let's just say the sooner I see him and do some lab work, the better."

The team had gathered around. "Brown, you stay here. If Sandburg shows up, bring him in immediately. Taggart, you escort Dr. Johansen. Doctor, please stay well back and follow Captain Taggart's directions. I have no idea how messy this could get. Everybody else, keep things calm and professional. We want to disturb the other patients as little as possible. Be smart. We don't need this on the evening news." They advanced on the entrance of the building.

"Excuse me, miss." Simon flashed his badge. "I'm Captain Banks of the Cascade Police Department. We're taking Detective Ellison into protective custody. He's in room 203. We need someone to take us to his room at once. We'll transport immediately - we have an ambulance standing by."

The young woman stared at Simon, eyes widening in either panic or disbelief. "I... I can't do that."

"This badge and these papers say you can. Now get these doors open, or I'll place you under arrest."

"I'll have to notify Dr. Hinton first, and get his permission." She started to reach for the phone.

Simon's long arm reached out over the counter and firmly pressed the receiver back onto the phone. "You can chat with Dr. Hinton AFTER you take us to Detective Ellison." Still she hesitated. Wincing inwardly at the level of intimidation required, Simon barked at the group behind him. "Rafe, handcuff this young woman. Connor, find us someone with keys. Unless you'd like to change your mind, miss?"

Without a word she rounded the counter, entered a code on the keypad and fumbled for the correct key.

 

"What do you think, Dr. Johansen?"

"Heavily drugged, but vitals are stable." He looked at the accompanying EMT's. "Get those IV's out. Make a copy of the medications and dosages he's had in the last 48 hours. When you're finished we'll transport." With that said, he returned to his examination. More attention than Jim's had from Hinton in days, thought Simon ruefully.

Dr. Johansen took one last look at the monitors before removing the leads. "I'll have some blood work drawn in the ambulance. I see no reason why we can't take him to his home instead of the hospital, although we'll have to monitor him round the clock. If the tests come back as I suspect, we'll start him on some medications to combat the overactive immune response and gradually increase the dose if he can tolerate it. When did you say Dr. Sandburg would be arriving?" Jim stirred for the first time at the mention of Blair's name. Johansen noticed, and gently stroked Jim's hand as the IV's were removed. "Just relax, Jim. He'll be here soon. Try to wake up for us." A series of crashes and shouting could be heard down the hall. Johansen half had the question out of his mouth when Sandburg appeared at the door. Spotting Jim, he blew past the others in the room and went directly to his side.

Blair's expressive face showed his horror as he took in the restraints, the barely breathing form and Jim's ashen pallor. "Oh, my God," he murmured. "What have they done. I'm here, Jim. It's Blair." Jim stirred, turning toward the sound of Blair's voice. "Hey, big guy. It's me. Everything is okay now - we're getting you out of here."

"Sandburr... hurtsss"

"Good job, Jim. Keep talking. Hold my hand." Blair looked at Johansen for confirmation. "They're going to move you, but I'm going to be right here. Concentrate on my voice. We have someone here to help now. Everyone's here." Blair's other hand massaged Jim's temple. "They've got you now. I'll be right behind."

"Haaar beaat...."

"That's right, Jim," answered Blair softly. "Listen to my heart. Know that I'm here." Blair looked sharply at Dr. Johansen. The man gave a small nod. Anything said or heard would go no further.

As the EMT's loaded Jim and wheeled him from the room, Blair turned to Simon, eyes blazing. "Brown told me. I will kill him. I will kill him with my bare hands." He dashed off to keep pace with the gurney.

"Okay, everyone. Make sure the facility is secure as we leave."

The ambulance was parked at the entrance, as arranged. Jim's eyes were open now, fastened on Blair as the younger man trotted along side the gurney, holding onto one of his hands. After a brief consultation, it was decided that both Johansen and Blair would cram into the ambulance. With a final squeeze, Blair released Jim's hand and stepped back so the EMT's could settle him. Without warning, Jim lunged back toward Blair, clutching at air. "Noooo... keep him awaaay..." Blair rushed back to his friend's side, trying desperately to soothe him.

Behind them a car screeched to a stop at the entrance to the parking lot. Blair didn't recognize the guy, turned back to Jim and dismissed the newcomer completely. Let Simon argue with the idiot. He remained absorbed as Jim grew more and more agitated. As the angry words began to penetrate through his concentration, he slowly realized who the intruder was. His eyes locked on Jim's before he turned in a towering rage and listened to Hinton as the doctor screamed, "He's my patient. You have no right! You can't have him!" 

One minute Dr. Daniel Hinton was nose to nose with a police captain. The next he was flat on his back in a mud puddle, blood dripping from his nose with a seriously outraged anthropologist sitting on his chest. More than anything in the world Henri Brown wanted to stand back and let Sandburg take Hinton to pieces. In truth, he would have sold tickets and served the popcorn. Instead he grabbed Sandburg around the waist and pulled him off. He nearly lost his hold, but Rafe came to his rescue, helping him corral the flailing Sandburg. Keeping Blair's feet off the ground, he carried his back to the ambulance. "Hairboy," he shouted. "We need you for Ellison, not rotting in a cell for assault! First things first!" He set Blair down with a shake. "Come on, man. We can deal with the weasel later."

When the entourage pulled out, Henri Brown took a final look out his rear view mirror. It gave him great satisfaction to see Hinton still sitting in the slimy water with blood streaking down his face.

 

Johansen couldn't help but rub his eyes as he watched his patient cautiously swallow spoonful after spoonful of chicken broth. It had been a long twenty-four hours, but Jim Ellison had definitely turned the corner.

"Jim, I going to give you one last dose of anti-histamines and then I'm going to crash. Let me see that skin rash before I go." He waited while Blair gently eased the silky material off Ellison's shoulders. "Much better. How is the discomfort?"

Jim grinned. "Itches like crazy, but I'll live."

"I'm going to leave an hour by hour checklist. It may shock you, but there's a rumor going on among your friends that you don't always follow Blair's advice and that you're a lousy patient. I don't want anything less than full cooperation - we're not out of the woods yet."

"I'll try to be good."

"No trying - only doing. I need to talk to your keeper for a minute. I promise to send him right back."

"If you'll excuse me, Doc, I think the professor looks worse than I do."

Johansen snorted. "That's only because you don't have a mirror right in front of you. Here, take these." He handed Jim two small white pills. "I'll see you in my office tomorrow. Your only job is to stay in this bed and make sure Blair takes a nap before he falls over. Blair, could you join me for a moment?" Blair nodded and followed down the stairs.

The two men sat at the kitchen table, sipping mugs of tea as Johansen filled out his to-do list and a medication schedule. "He's doing well, Blair. You were 100% correct about the allergies. The other things that I may have noticed? Well, I don't think any of those observations need to go in my clinical notes." With a serious but concerned expression, he continued. "I understand why you keep his gifts a secret. As much as I would love to know more, I agree completely with your approach. I would be honored to serve as Detective Ellison's physician whenever his unique characteristics require special attention."

"Thank you," replied Blair. The two men walked slowly toward the door of the loft. "I mean, thank you doesn't even come close. We owe you a lot."

"Think about what I said. You know - elaborating on Jim's care instructions so this never becomes an issue again. I've also spoken to the head of staff at the hospital. We'll be filing an official complaint against Hinton. He'll never have the opportunity to do this kind of damage again. Now go upstairs. You're too tired to do anything else."

Blair climbed the stairs back up to Jim's room. His futon lay in the corner, but instead he stretched out on top the covers beside Jim.

"How are you feeling? Really?"

"My senses are still spiking, but it's getting better."

"I'm never leaving like that again."

"Yes, you are. We'll just prepare better. Those expeditions are part of your life, Chief. We'll cope." Jim reached over and snagged a discarded afghan from the bed. "Cover up and keep me company. If we both fall asleep, so much the better."

Blair leaned on an elbow and pushed aside thoughts of how close they had come to disaster. "Close your eyes," he said. "I have a little story to tell you - about a Shaman."

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at Mackie's Idol Pursuits. Thank you, Mackie, for giving my stories a home for so long.


End file.
